


Nooses Aren't Always Tied with Rope

by gintokiu



Category: Gintama
Genre: (mentions) of potential triggers in later chapters, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Blood and Violence, Famous Singer!Hijikata, Friends to Lovers, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, M/M, More characters to be added, Organized Crime, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, We'll get there, Yakuza!Gintoki, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2018-12-14 07:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11778435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gintokiu/pseuds/gintokiu
Summary: There’s a man halfway out of the driver’s seat of a truck laying on his back and Hijikata knows exactly what’s going on; he’s not about to let some prick hotwire a fan’s car. So he walks past a row of expensive vehicles, preparing to call out whoever thought they were dumb enough to pull this shit here. Before he can get a word in, however, the man is out of the truck, the door is slammed closed, and Hijikata is rolled under the vehicle with a hand over his mouth.Or: the AU where Hijikata's whisked away and doesn't ever fully know what's going on.





	1. Smoke Signals and Shattered Glass

**Author's Note:**

> So I've written a few stories and I never got the guts to post them here, but now I'm saying fuck anxiety and I'm going to post this one instead. The story which I actually don't know where it's going to go yet but hey, we'll get through it. 
> 
> So anyways, hi, my name is Alex, you can find me on tumblr yelling: @gintokiu 
> 
> I know this first chapter is short as hell but it didn't make sense to cut it off anywhere else, so please bear with me and my beginners struggles. Enjoy! ♡

Hijikata is idly walking down the parking lot after finishing his opening act, trying not to draw so much attention to himself and to chill as best he could. Of course, he loves talking to his fans and taking occasional photos, but right now he wants to be left alone to smoke and to hear the muffled music of the main act accompanied by the screams of glee through closed doors. 

He looks at the VIP parking sign and sighs, feeling a little better now that most of the VIP members are either sitting in their front row seats or chowing down backstage, which is where he should be right now. 

Hijikata takes another drag and continues to meander, nursing his sore and calloused fingers from all his recent violin practicing with saliva. Kondo had always warned him he was one to push too hard for too long and not know what he was doing to himself; he’d have to start listening to him more. 

As time passes, he watches the clouds roll above him in the night air and the bugs chirp in the grass. Deciding that he could probably stand heading backstage now, he takes a few last drags before dropping the cigarette. Distantly, he sees a dark colored truck pull into the VIP parking section, which was supposed to be blocked off after he got done performing. Shaking it off, he snuffs out the smoke under an expensive leather shoe and turns to get on his way back to where he disappeared from roughly fifteen minutes ago.

In the midst of attempting to talk to walk back slow due to not wanting to socialize for the next few hours with complete strangers, he hears a loud crash and a curse. Immediately, curiosity gets the best of him and his feet carry him to find the source of the noise.

There’s a man halfway out of the driver’s seat of a truck laying on his back and Hijikata knows exactly what’s going on; he’s not about to let some prick hotwire a fan’s car. So he walks past a row of expensive vehicles, preparing to call out whoever thought they were dumb enough to pull this shit here. Before he can get a word in, however, the man is out of the truck, the door is slammed closed, and Hijikata is rolled under the vehicle with a hand over his mouth. His eyes are wide, his breathing is hard, his heart’s racing faster than light itself and the other man can probably feel it, he knows. 

_“Don’t make a sound,”_ is whispered into his ear and Hijikata is so shaken that he just blindly follows the orders, staying quiet with a nod. The rustle and grind of small rocks under tires screeches to a halt and the man on top of him noticeably tenses. In the corner of his eye, there’s the shine of a flashlight. 

They’re both dead silent. The stillness of the atmosphere makes even breaths seem like torrents or the rustle of clothing as loud as the trees blowing on a windy day. Hijikata's practically waiting for a bullet or a knife to put out his misery. 

Moments pass and the tires start to move again slowly, still evaluating. 

“You can move on. He’s not 'ere.” A voice ordered. 

“Are you sure? This is _him_ we’re dealing with.” Another broke through the scene and the flashlight then turned off with a soft click. 

“The noise was probably just that pop star bitch on his smoke break slamming the door when he went back in. Ain’t no way that he could’ve escaped that fast. We're done 'ere, let’s go check the main parking lot.” The first man said, proceeding to whip the vehicle around and speed out of the parking lot. 

After the coast was clear, the man on top of him rolled both himself and Hijikata out from under the truck. Instantly jumping to his feet, he entered the driver’s seat, not paying any mind to Hijikata, who was desperately scrambling to not get run over as he flung himself into the backseat. He was barely able to get the door closed before the unknown man was pulling out and flying around the corner much like the first truck did. 

The man’s already on the highway when Hijikata realizes that he’s not paying any attention to him at all. 

“Um, so who are you?” Hijikata says, clearing his throat. 

_“Fuck!_ What the hell are you even doing here?! I thought I left you behind!” 

“I don't know! I just― went with the flow?” The man sighs deeply and runs a hand down his face. “Listen, it’s not my fault that I got thrown under a car and threatened so I apologize if I'm a little disoriented and confused as to what the hell is going on." There was a glare directed at him from the rearview mirror. "Anyway... you never answered my question.”

“What was that?”

“Who the hell are you?” 

Hijikata watched the man’s lips purse as he calculated his next words. “I’m not a bad guy, but I’m not a good one either. What about you? Who are you?”

“The hell is that even supposed to mean?” Hijikata snorted, shaking his head as he watched the blurs of trees flash by out the window. “And I’m Hijikata Toshiro.”

“Ah, I see. Well, welcome aboard Hijikata. I hope you don’t mind if the ride gets a little bumpy because I think our company might’ve figured out they were wrong.” The man with the natural perm chuckled a little bit, concealed stress obvious with the way his brows furrowed. Hijikata turned around, the vehicle from before dead on their tail. He squinted, trying to make out the faces of the men that were currently pursuing them when the man in the front seat yelled something and Hijikata ducked, the only thing that seemed reasonable to do. 

The glass of the back window shattered above him, shards raining down on top of him as a bullet sunk into the passenger side headrest. Curses filled the car and the man driving threw something on top of him. Amidst his shock and confusion, he looks down, realization hitting him that a gun is now resting on his lap. 

“What the hell is this?! I can’t kill them! I don't even know what the fuck is going on, bastard!” Hijikata yelled over the howl of the wind and the straining of the engine, holding the heavy pistol in his hand.

“‘I’m not asking you to kill them, just blow out the damn tires!” The other yelled back, “I’ll tell you when they’re reloading, that’s when you shoot!” 

Hijikata wiped sweat off of his forehead, gripping the gun tightly between his sweaty hands. This was something straight out of an action movie. Wait, maybe that’s all that it was! He was in one of those hidden camera shows where they throw famous people into scary situations and have them fend for themselves! That’s why there were no cars on the highway, the television crew had shut it down for filming!

That also meant this would probably be one of those situations where the gun doesn’t actually fire a bullet; instead, the crew has the tire pop on queue because guns are strictly outlawed and almost no one with good intentions knows how to actually shoot one. So all he had to do was go up, shoot, and then bam! The scene would cut, he’d be paid for his troubles, and he could go home to his quiet bed in his quiet apartment with one hell of a story just waiting to be told to the masses. 

“Now!” 

Hijikata shot up, aiming the gun to the best of his ability and pulling the trigger, trying to make it look like he didn’t already know that this was all a setup. The gun recoiled back, making his hands fumble to not drop it down into the bed of the truck. He glanced at the still perfectly intact tire was and instead found a hole marking the front of the bumper. So maybe the show wasn’t going to take it _that_ easy on him. 

“Get the hell down, what do you think you’re doing?!” The other barked, and Hijikata flopped down back onto the broken glass pile. “You’re fucking insane. Keep that up and I’m going to have to deal with getting rid of the car and a dead body...” The singer didn’t say anything in return, just waited for another signal. “Also, that gun is semi-automatic, meaning you can shoot more than one bullet at a time, dumbass!”

He bit down on his lip, this sure was one high budget show. He was amazed he hadn’t heard of its production, but then he couldn’t say he watched enough TV to have a half decent idea. There were a few more shots from their pursuers that grabbed his attention back to the current problem, one shattering the window by his feet, and some others sticking into the metal wall of the back side of the truck. 

His driver yelled the go again and he flew up, sticking his gun out the window and following the tires of the swerving truck. He shot twice, one hitting metal of the front of the car and the other indenting asphalt. Then a gun was pulled back up and aimed at him. Before he could get fully down a bullet nicked his arm, slicing across flesh and putting a hole in the front window. 

The man in the front seat groaned, “You’re so―! Here, give me the damn gun.” The singer held his wound with a hiss, blood seeping through his fingers and snaking down his arm as the gun was yanked from his grip.  
“Steer.” The man ordered as he reloaded the gun, rolling down his window as he hung out from the waist up. Hijikata scrambled for the wheel, getting a hand on it in order to keep the vehicle straight. He couldn't see what the other was doing; all he knew was that there were two shots then the man was taking back his spot. 

Hijikata sank back into his seat, still trying to keep his head low. He waited a second before peeking up to see what the other truck was doing and why everything had now gone unusually quiet. The truck was slowing, turning to the right as if no one was controlling it. Then he saw the two holes in the front window as the truck eventually wrecked into the grassy hill on the side of the interstate. 

His stomach sunk. 

They were dead, they had to be dead. He’d all but abandoned his thought that this was a hidden camera show after a bullet had nearly carved a hole in his arm, which currently hurt like a bitch. He was trying to keep compression on it in hopes that it would stop _fucking bleeding,_ but so far he’d had no luck on that and his shirt didn’t want to tear either. Curse this expensive piece of shit. 

He groaned, frustration and relentless surges of pain getting the best of him. He leaned his head back against the headrest. Moments pass and it's only until he hears the sound of something metal being opened that he opens his eyes. 

"What's this?" 

"What does it look like? Cut your damn shirt already. we'll stop somewhere and get some painkillers." The knife is offered and he gently takes it from its owner, inspecting the design etched into the blade. 

“T-thank you...” 

“Don’t mention it.” The man silently returned, eyes never moving from watching the road in front of him. “Gintoki.”

“What?”

“My name is Gintoki. Sorry for dragging you into this, you have no business in it.” 

Hijikata didn’t say anything back, instead, he went to cut a long piece of fabric off of his shirt to wrap around his wound. “No it’s okay, I was the one who hopped in the backseat,” he chuckled, trying to ease the pain with a fake laugh. There was still one question, however, that hung heavily around his neck, dragging him down with anticipation and worry. “What’s going to happen to me?” 

He watched Gintoki as he calculated his next words. Every silent second that passed between them with only the hum of the engine being exerted only made his stomach sink lower. 

“That’s all up to you.”


	2. Keep Your Expectations Low and Your Head Lower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys prepare for their road trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. 
> 
> Well, it's 5:40 in the morning. I've been writing for four and a half hours because writer's block finally got out of the way for the first time in a couple months and god I apologize this is so late. I'm already slacking on updates but Harvey was a bitch and balancing housework/school/relationship/volleyball can leave little time for writing. 
> 
> So please, take everything I am as a person at 5:40 in the morning and enjoy this long-awaited chapter.

“Where the hell are we going?” Hijikata insisted, Gintoki promptly ignoring him and hopping out of the car, taking the bag of stuff they just bought out of the passenger’s side seat and flinging it over his shoulder wordlessly. “Why are we at some run-down apartment complex?” 

Gintoki again doesn’t say anything, instead takes to stuffing the pistol a little too visibly into the waistline of his pants and shutting the door behind him. Hijikata grabs up the knife, following closely behind the perm as they made their way up shady steps and through the quietness of the hallways. 

Passing by open doors offered a visual to things Hijikata had ignored from his high throne in society. People passed out from drugs, the needles still in skin, others struggling to stay warm, a man feeding his dog half of what little food he had. Hijikata’s wallet felt heavy in his pocket like every dollar had turned to lead. The thought of what was behind the closed doors has his stomach turning slightly.

He swallows heavily, speeding up to walk side by side with Gintoki. “You gonna explain what’s going on?” He prompts, Gintoki not batting an eye at any of the stuff happening around them. He’s ignored again as the other pulls out a key from his pocket and opens up the nearest door. 

“The owner of this shit hole gave me this before it was left to the dogs. Everyone knows better than to break into this place.” The door clicks open and Gintoki walks inside, allowing Hijikata to come in before locking it right back up and bolting the door. 

There are two mattresses on the floor, accompanied by a stray pillow off to the side. Considering how dirty the other rooms were, this one was in relatively good shape, all things considered. Gintoki sits down onto one of the mattresses and begins to open up one of the bags to get out his pre-made sandwich from the store. He tosses a light gray hoodie and a black cap at Hijikata, both he knew were to cover up his identity from any knowing eyes. There’s a pack of six gray shirts also thrown beside them and a pack of underwear. 

“These all for me?”

Gintoki swallows his bite of sandwich dramatically, pointing to the bathroom on the other side of the room. “Be a dear and go grab the bag from in there?” 

Brushed off, he does as he’s told and gets up to go grab the bag. There’s no water in the toilet and when he turns the knob on the sink there’s no response. Looking in the shower, there’s a duffel bag stuffed into the corner which he assumes to be the bag Gintoki’s talking about, so he grabs it up and soon enough, it’s thrown down beside the awaiting perm. Hijikata flops onto the other mattress, examining the shirts in their plain packaging. 

“I bought you some extra stuff considering that we now have to worry about hiding your image, but should you need anything else like pants, we’re about the same build, so it shouldn’t be a problem. There’s also some medicines for your arm in there too.” 

Hijikata watched Gintoki nonchalantly eat his sandwich like this situation was the most normal thing he’d been in since an occasional highway shootout. “Thank you, but you haven’t explained a damn thing to me. Why the hell did those guys want to kill us? Why are we hiding in some homeless shelter? Why is there even a _we_ in this whole situation?” Hijikata snapped, pulling out the tube of triple antibiotic and smothering it gently over his angry gash before downing some pain medication. 

“Well, there’s a _we_ because someone wanted to hop in the back of my truck.” 

Hijikata snorted, crossing his arms. “Ah, yes, _your_ truck.” 

“Well, it’s mine now. I’m sure the owners wouldn’t want it back anyways after all the bullets that’ve been put through it.” Gintoki shoots back, taking a bite of his sandwich. 

There’s a glare shared between the two, and Hijikata decides to ask the question that had been nibbling away at him from the moment it’d been said. “What did you mean by it’s up to me?” 

“Well,” There’s a pause as Gintoki finishes his last bite, wiping his hands on his pants. “You have two choices. One, you and your money keep me alive until I get where I need to go. I then drop you back off in Hakodate or wherever is most convenient where we forget this whole thing happened and go on with our merry lives. Of course, this ride isn’t going to be safe so you keeping me alive will, in turn, keep you alive as well.”

There’s a spark of anger in his chest and he feels his fingers dig into the side of the mattress in spite. “What’s number two?” 

“Number two,” he says, pulling up his shirt to take out the pistol, which is soon pointed directly at Hijikata’s forehead. “Goes a little somethin' like this. So, it’s your choice really, I’d prefer not to have to kill someone famous but I suppose there’s a first time for everything, should the need arise.” 

Hijikata gulps, a bead of sweat running down his cheek and momentarily tickling his chin. “What do I need to do?” There’s a smirk of victory as the gun is dropped down onto the bed. 

“Well, soon we’ll go out and you’ll get as much money in cash that’ll stick in our wallets. Then we’re gonna keep credit card transactions to the bare minimum. Don’t want to be tracked by those. Second, I’m going to need you to break your phone, should the police start looking for you that’s the first thing they’re gonna track because you rich kids can’t leave ‘em anywhere without having a pissy fit.” 

“Okay, I can do that.”

“Good, glad we came to an understanding.” Gintoki concluded, looking just as uninterested as before. He leaned off the wall, taking off his dirty shirt and swapping it for a loose light gray one he plucked from his own bag. Though not before Hijikata saw hints of spiraling, traditional looking ink trailing uncolored and unshaded across his shoulders.

He decided that was enough of a reason to ask. “Who are you?” 

“Sakata Gintoki.”

“Not the answer I was looking for. What’s your family?”

There was a pause before he finally answered. “Yoshida, though they don’t quite want me as much now.”

“Yoshida? Aren’t they like the biggest family in Osaka?”

There’s a hum of confirmation and a sandwich was raised in the air with it. “If you’re not going to eat this then I will.” Hijikata snatches the bag out of Gintoki’s hand, gently undoing the wrapper with his injured arm still throbbing with every pump of blood. 

“So we’re staying... here? For the night?” 

Gintoki nods in return, pulling out a worn card deck. “Got a problem with it?” 

“N-no, it’s just… you gotta realize that I’m not used to all of… this. It’s just a lot to take in.” He fumbles around with the lettuce, the sandwich tasting dull and unappetizing with the stark lack of mayonnaise. 

“What? This room’s the cleanest one in the whole damn building. If you’d rather sleep outside with the homeless then please be my guest. I’d love to have two mattresses to myself, gives me more room to sprawl out, ya know?” Hijikata bites his lip, not knowing how to respond so he doesn’t, instead taking to watching the shuffling of the dingy cards.  
“You’re gonna have to work with me here.” Gintoki states after a while of silence and Hijikata raises his eyes up from the other's hands in silent reply as the perm deals out some unknown game for them. “I can't promise you nice accommodations or two meals a day, nor can I promise you a next day in some situations. Every man has his priorities and I won’t give up mine as easy as the next guy. What I can do is work with someone who is willing to work with me. I know you feel like you’re being used but after this is all said and done I’ll make it up to you if we’re not dead, all right? So just trust me.” 

Hijikata hums softly in agreement and the next thing that's spoken between them is about the card game. Halfway through Gintoki explaining the rules Hijikata zones out and they spend the next three “practice” games teaching him the rules over again. Soon enough they both gave up on him and the pain relief medicine did just enough to put him to sleep for a couple hours, followed by a very restless morning. 

-

Hijikata awoke for what felt like the hundredth time that morning to find Gintoki zipping up his duffel bag and throwing on a hat. He decided through his sleep-blurred vision that the sun still hadn’t come up yet because the holes in the blinds didn’t have the faintest hint of light peaking through them and leaking into the room. No, it was still as dark as it was when he’d finally fallen asleep and when he sat up he found the room cleaned to its state before their arrival. 

Gintoki only spared him a glance, flinging the bag over his shoulder and standing up, motioning for Hijikata to follow suit while he shoved a hoodie into Hijikata’s arms with his free hand. The gun was the last thing on the bed, and it was soon secured hiddenly into the waistband of jeans yet again. 

They walked out of the bedroom and down the hall until they reached the only person in sight, a man writing on a cardboard box with a sharpie while having a one-sided conversation with his dog. The man had looked their way when they had exited but didn’t dare look at them until Gintoki tapped him on the shoulder, handing him the key with a head notion back in the direction of the room. The man nodded a thanks, a glimmer in his eyes that hadn’t been there before as his panhandling poster fell half-way finished down to the floor. Gintoki walked on, not looking back to see what happened next so Hijikata decided not to either. 

When they made it back to the truck, he found the windows had been covered up by duct tape to hide the holes, and conveniently placed _‘I ♥ my cat’_ and _‘My Other Ride is a Spaceship’_ stickers were on the shot to hell bumpers and tailgate. Gintoki unlocked it, hopping in the front seat and directing Hijikata into the back. 

“When’d ya do that?” He asked, taking Gintoki‘s bag and setting it on the seat next to him. 

“‘Bout forty minutes ago.” The truck rumbled loudly to a start in the morning air, the dashboard lighting up to reveal the time 3:51. Hijikata ran a hand through his bed hair, lack of sleep only hitting him now he knew how little he’d actually gotten. 

“Where are we going?” 

“First to an ATM. Then? I don't know quite yet.” Gintoki pulled out of the parking lot, and they drove for near half an hour before Gintoki finally took Hijikata’s credit card from him and stepped out only to return with around 90,000 yen in bills. They drove again a while longer and when they stopped, Hijikata watched Gintoki’s phone pull up its empty contact list before the perm clicked to the dial pad and typed out a number. It rang one whole dial before being answered with a quiet, calculated _“hello?”_

“It’s me. Have you found anything out yet?”

_“Ah, Kintoki! So nice of you to call. It’s been a while! Ahaha!”_

“I really need to be driving right now, not catching up with you.”

The voice on the other line clears its throat before finally answering, _“I’ve got a man on it, he’s saying they still haven’t caught up to you yet but that doesn’t mean they won’t soon if you don't keep moving. You need to change your truck soon too, they’ll sniff you out like a cat and a mouse if you don't ditch that thing in at least the next day.”_

“I was planning on it. I bought some stickers to cover up the bullet holes but that won’t throw them off for long.” 

_“No, it won’t.”_

“I’ve also got… complications.” 

_“As in?”_

Gintoki leans against the wheel, fingers pinching at his nasion. “I picked up a pop star, Hijikata Toshiro. Know him?”

_“No, but like, slept with him or stole his wallet now he wants you dead?- Or both?”_

“Like he jumped in the back of my truck and I accidentally kidnapped him.” 

_“How do you ‘accidentally kidnap’ someone?!”_

“I don't know! He’s gonna keep me afloat with his money and then in turn I won’t kill him but it’s still a difficult situation. Do you think you could give in a few anonymous tips to some magazines and maybe leak retirement rumors? Or like a romance scandal sort of deal? Just don’t actually end his career, okay?” 

_“Mmm, I’ll see what I can do. I’ll call you with any updates.”_

“Thanks, Sakamoto. Oh, wait- one last thing before I hang up: should I head for the bunker immediately or-?” 

_“I’d head for it but go a roundabout way, don't pass through any major cities or big towns, the family has eyes everywhere. You know that better than I do.”_ Gintoki hummed in agreement. _“I’ll call you with any updates I get. Stay safe, Kintoki.”_

“You too.” Gintoki hung up, turning around to face Hijikata.

“Sooo, who did I run away and fuck last night?”

Gintoki laughed, turning off his phone. “Dunno yet, we’ll see. However, what I do need for you to do is call your manager person whoever the fuck and tell them that you need a mental break and won’t be back for a while. Feel free to add or take away from that as you please to make it believable, but don't you dare try to slip anything in because those retirement accusations will become true very quickly.” 

“I know that much, dumbass.” He huffed, finding Kondo’s contact and ignoring the 38 missed calls and 106 text messages lining his home screen. 

The phone rang three times before a sob was heard on the other side of the phone. _“T-Toshi?”_

“Hey, Kondo-san, sorry for running off like that last night I had a er- wild night, you could say...” Gintoki quietly placed the pistol on top of the console, a silent warning, one Hijikata didn’t need.

 _“To-shi I’m s-so glad! You had me so worried! It turns out you just ran off and hooked up with someone? That’s s-such a relief! Knowing the big shootout ordeal that happened on the highway last night, I didn’t know what had happened to you...”_ Kondo babbled out, sleep deprivation and stress overflowing and making his words mush together. 

“Yeah, that was certainly crazy, to think it happened just after I left is what baffles me but hey, Kondo-san, I need to ask you a favor.”

_“Ah-! Anything Toshi, I’m just so glad you’re safe-”_

“Yes, yes, no I uh... I want to be out of the public eye for a while. If you could just stay quiet no matter what accusations come up about my absence until I want to come back, that would be beyond helpful.”

_“I… guess so? What’s bringing this up?”_

“Nothing it’s just, the spotlight is finally really catching up to me and it just got to be too much. I want out for a while, so I’m about to go visit an old friend and catch up for a while. Very off the grid type of situation, they hate social media so I won’t be active on anything. But-! When I come back the media will love the buzz. Great for publicity, don’t you think?” 

_“Ahhh, very good thinking Toshi! Yes, I’ll spread the word around to stay quiet, you have fun and take your break, and don’t catch an STD please?”_

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Hijikata hung up, hand running through his hair again out of pure habit. “Well, that went better than I thought it would.” 

“And I didn’t have to shoot you so it works out. Alrighty, now that's over say goodbye to this…” Gintoki grabs Hijikata’s phone from his hand and snaps it in two, the screen immediately going a dead black before handing it back to its owner. “Now, break your SIM card too.” Hijikata does as he’s told, fishing the card out and breaking it between his fingers. 

As he looked down on the remnants and shatters of what used to keep him connected to the world, he realized the severity of his own situation. He was now off the grid, required his own weapons to protect himself, not others. The bandage around his wrist was evidence of that enough, and the feeling of the power in the pistol as it- no, as _he_ shot with intents to injure was all too vivid in his mind. He couldn’t forget the feeling of it if he tried. The feeling of the leather steering wheel under his fingers and blood dripping snaking down his hand and onto the floorboards was also all too lucid, but not as much so as the sound of the last two shots echoing in the night air, and the crash of metal that followed shortly behind them. Hijikata’s attention was pulled away from his thoughts when he looked up to see Gintoki stuffing the pistol back into his jeans; that’s when he was reminded that the most fearful weapon was sitting mere inches away from him in the front seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there will be progression. one day.  
> have a nice day y'all. 
> 
> (i hope grammarly will call me out if i ever type the word y'all in a story because y i k e s) 
> 
> -  
> find me on tumblr if ya wanna: @gintokiu

**Author's Note:**

> If you're reading this, thanks for putting time into an unknown author, it truly means the world to me. ♡
> 
> I don't know how often I'll update, but I'll try to have some sort of a schedule. :^)


End file.
